The Charming Month of May
It was the charming month of May,
When all the flow’rs were fresh and gay.
One morning, by the break of day,
The youthful, charming Chloe—
From peaceful slumber she arose,
Girt on her mantle and her hose,
And o’er the flow’ry mead she goes—
The youthful, charming Chloe.
Chorus:
Lovely was she by the dawn,
Youthful Chloe, charming Chloe,
Tripping o’er the pearly lawn,
The youthful, charming Chloe.
The feather’d people you might see
Perch’d all around on every tree,
In notes of sweetest melody
They hail the charming Chloe;
Till, painting gay the eastern skies,
The glorious sun began to rise,
Outrival’d by the radiant eyes
Of youthful, charming Chloe.
Chorus
poem by Robert Burns
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Related quotes
Warm And Tender
Warm and tender is my prayer for your world, that I surrender to my girl
All my life I've waited for the angel you are
You're the dream that I knew you'd be
And I love you completely my Chloe, Chloe
Warm and tender, I will color your days, with smiles and friends along the way
From the silver morning to the blue velvet night
Through it all you can count on me
And I love you completely my Chloe, Chloe
I'll make you a world to grow in, where you will be safe and free
I'll save you a greener world, where you can be
Warm and tender you will heal all the world
Your touch can mend a mother's heart
Everyday I'm thankful for the blessing you are
You're the future, the hope we need
And I love you completely my Chloe, Chloe, Chloe, Chloe
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song performed by by Olivia Newton-John
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Warm & Tender
(olivia newton-john/john farrar)
Warm and tender is my prayer for your world
That I surrender to my girl
All my life Ive waited for the angel you are
Youre the dream that I knew youd be
And I love you completely my chloe/chloe
Warm and tender--i will color your days
With smiles and friends along the way
From the silver morning
To the blue velvet night
Through it all you can count on me
And I love you completely my chloe/chloe
Ill make you a world to grow in
Where you will be safe and free
Ill save you a greener world
Where you can be
Warm and tender you will heal all the world
Your touch can mend a mothers heart
Everyday Im thankful for the blessing you are
Youre the future, the hope we need
And I love you completely my chloe/chloe/chloe/chloe
song performed by by Olivia Newton-John
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Chloe
NIGHT wind sighing through the poplar leaves,
Trembling of the aspen, shivering of the willow,
Every leafy voice of all the night-time grieves,
Mourning, weeping over Chloe's pillow.
Chloe, fresher than the breeze of dawn,
Fairer than the larches in their young spring glory,
Brighter than the glow-worms on the dewy lawn,
Hear the dirge the green trees sing to end your story:--
'Chloe lived and Chloe loved: she brought new gladness,
Hope and life and all things good to all who met her;
Only, dying, wept to know the lifelong sadness
Willed, against her will, to those who can't forget her.'
poem by Edith Nesbit
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Question to Lisetta
WHAT nymph should I admire or trust,
But Chloe beauteous, Chloe just?
What nymph should I desire to see,
But her who leaves the plain for me?
To whom should I compose the lay,
But her who listens when I play?
To whom in song repeat my cares,
But her who in my sorrow shares?
For whom should I the garland make,
But her who joys the gift to take,
And boasts she wears it for my sake?
In love am I not fully blest?
Lisetta, prithee tell the rest.
LISETTA'S REPLY
Sure Chloe just, and Chloe fair,
Deserves to be your only care;
But, when you and she to-day
Far into the wood did stray,
And I happen'd to pass by,
Which way did you cast your eye?
But, when your cares to her you sing,
You dare not tell her whence they spring:
Does it not more afflict your heart,
That in those cares she bears a part?
When you the flowers for Chloe twine,
Why do you to her garland join
The meanest bud that falls from mine?
Simplest of swains! the world may see
Whom Chloe loves, and who loves me.
poem by Matthew Prior
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The IX Ode to Horace
HORACE.
While I was pleasing to your arms,
Nor any youth, of happier charms,
Thy snowy bosom blissful prest,
Not Portia's like me was blest.
LYDIA.
While for no other fair you burn'd,
Nor Lydia was for Chloe scorn'd
What maid was then so blest as thine?
Not [xx's] flame could equal mine.
HORACE.
Me Chloe now possesses whole,
Her voice her lyre command my soul;
For whom Ill gladly die, to save
Her dearer beauties from the grave.
LYDIA.
My heart young Calats inspires,
Whose bosom glows with mutal fires,
For whom I twice would die with joy,
If death would spare the charming boy.
HORACE.
Yet what if love, whole bards we broke,
Again should tame us to the yoke;
Should I shake off bright Chloe's chain,
And take my Lydia home again?--
LYDIA.
Though he exceed in beauty far
The rising lustre of a star;
Though light as cork thy fancy strays,
Thy passions wild as angry seas,
When vex'd with storms; yet gladly I
With thee would live, with thee would die.
poem by Major Henry Livingston Jr.
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Song
THE merchant, to secure his treasure,
Conveys it in a borrow'd name:
Euphelia serves to grace my measure;
But Chloe is my real flame.
My softest verse, my darling lyre,
Upon Euphelia's toilet lay;
When Chloe noted her desire
That I should sing, that I should play.
My lyre I tune, my voice I raise;
But with my numbers mix my sighs:
And while I sing Euphelia's praise,
I fix my soul on Chloe's eyes.
Fair Chloe blush'd: Euphelia frown'd:
I sung, and gazed: I play'd, and trembled:
And Venus to the Loves around
Remark'd, how ill we all dissembled.
poem by Matthew Prior
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Forgot To Follow
All I can hear is another year pass me by.
They pass me by.
They pass underneath you know theres nothing to see here, except ten bridges.
They pass underneath you know theres nothing to see here, except ten bridges.
Coz when you're winning you're charming,
you're winning you're charming,
when you're winning you're charming, it wont...
You might have noticed that i've fallen down on the road,
It could happen to anyone, I know.
They pass underneath you know theres nothing to see here, except ten bridges.
They pass underneath you know theres nothing to see here, except ten bridges.
Coz when you're winning you're charming,
you're winning you're charming,
when you're winning you're charming, it wont...
You're winning you're charming,
coz when you're winning you're charming,
when you're winning you're charming,
coz when you're winning you're charming,
when you're winning you're charming,
when you're winning you're charming,
when you're winning you're charming,
when you're winning you're charming.
ohhh!
song performed by by Idlewild
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Chloe
Chloe, i hang onto the past
Like a chandelier in a darkened room
But your hope is in the future
As light emerges from the gloom.
My sunset will be your dawn
Your happiness will be reborn.
It's snowy, but Chloe, ice will melt away.
Life, the price we have to pay
For the sun will light the bay
When silent fears sail away.
Chloe, we hang our hopes on a crescent moon
The aching in our hearts not just a pleasant tune
Scarred but starred like tender night
We feel the dark but wait for the light.
Our words still survive on a nomadic wind
Our thoughts free and open, with reality twinned.
Be proud, that life's shroud you have cast away
To feel out loud, while others torn, do fray-
Keeping it all inside on this roller- coaster ride
-They had so neatly planned, when love went hand in hand
As passion's fire was fanned.
Then Cupid turned out their light.
We still have the blue crazed night.
Chloe, continue to fly your kite
While the smug are convinced they are right.
Yes, the heart must rule the head
No skeleton ever bled
No feeling, no life, just dead.
Chloe we hang our hopes on a crescent moon.
poem by Kevin East
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Ninth Ode of the Third Book of Horace
Horace.
While I was your beloved one,
And while no other youth threw his fond arms around
Your white neck so easily,
Than the King of the world I was far happier.
Lydia..
While you loved not another one,
While you did not prefer Chloë to Lydia,
I then thought myself happier
Than the mother of Rome, great Rhea Silvia.
Horace..
Thracian Chloë now governs me,
She can merrily sing, playing the cithara;
I'd not scruple to die for her,
If the Implacable spared Chloë, the auburn haired.
Lydia.
I now love and am loved again,
By my Calaïs, son of the old Ornytus;
Twice I'd die for him willingly,
If the terrible fates spared but my Calaïs.
Horace.
What if love should return again,
And unite us by ties more indissoluble?
What if Chloë were cast away,
And the long-closed door open to Lydia?
Lydia.
My love's brighter than any star;
You, too, lighter than cork, tossed on the waves of the Hadriatic so terrible;
Still I'd live but with thee, and I could die with thee.
poem by James Clerk Maxwell
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Advising Chloë
Horace: Book I, Ode 23
"Vitas hinnuleo me similis, Chloë--"
Why shun me, my Chloë? Nor pistol nor bowie
Is mine with intention to kill.
And yet like a llama you run to your mamma;
You tremble as though you were ill.
No lion to rend you, no tiger to end you,
I'm tame as a bird in a cage.
That counsel maternal can run for The Journal--
You get me, I guess. . . . You're of age.
poem by Franklin P. Adams
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To Chloe
Chloe, you shun me like a hind
That, seeking vainly for her mother,
Hears danger in each breath of wind,
And wildly darts this way and t' other;
Whether the breezes sway the wood
Or lizards scuttle through the brambles,
She starts, and off, as though pursued,
The foolish, frightened creature scrambles.
But, Chloe, you're no infant thing
That should esteem a man an ogre;
Let go your mother's apron-string,
And pin your faith upon a toga!
poem by Eugene Field
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To A Lady Asking Foolish Questions
Why am I sorry, Chloe? Because the moon is far:
And who am I to be straitened in a little earthly star?
Because thy face is fair? And what if it had not been,
The fairest face of all is the face I have not seen.
Because the land is cold, and however I scheme and plot,
I cannot find a ferry to the land where I am not.
Because thy lips are red and thy breasts upbraid the snow?
(There is neither white nor red in the pleasance where I go.)
Because thy lips grow pale and thy breasts grow dun and fall?
I go where the wind blows, Chloe, and am not sorry at all.
poem by Ernest Christopher Dowson
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Trespassers
When Love and I drew softly nigh
And gazed in modest Chloe's eye
We saw reflected there in part
The lovely mansion of her heart,
A sight so fair that, quite bereft
Of sense and shame, we had but left
One wish, that we by foul or fair
Might enter in and tarry there.
But when, with vagabondish art,
We nearer crept to Chloe's heart
That we might steal therein, we found
Her heart with barbed wires enwound;
And crawling through those cruel rings
My garments caught, Love caught his wings.
And though we now would fain depart
We twain are snared, outside her heart.
poem by Ellis Parker Butler
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A Cinderella Story' vs Reality
There is a girl and a boy,
Connected only in cyber,
Never met,
Never phoned,
How long can it last?
It is like in the movie ‘A Cinderella Story’,
Her friend said.
The girl loves him so much,
She cannot took her mind off him,
She waits in front of computer every night,
Waiting for her Prince Charming to greet.
They have known each other a year,
They lived very far apart,
It is like one is up there,
One is down the globe,
Can it last?
She wondered.
One day,
Her Prince Charming said those magical words to her,
She was barely able to breathe,
She was the happiest person on Earth,
But Prince Charming loves her as…?
On one beautiful night,
As usual,
She spent almost hours and hours in front of the computer,
Wait till Prince Charming to come,
But he did not,
She was a bit upset,
She wrote to Prince Charming,
‘You love me as what? ’
Prince Charming replied her the next day,
‘I love you as my girlfriend’,
‘Will you be mine? ’
For God’s sake,
She was absolutely wanted to be his,
‘I sure will’,
It was the best day of her life.
So, there it was,
For her,
She hopes her story does not end just like that,
She will wait for her Prince Charming,
To come to her,
In reality,
Not just in cyber,
Even if it take 100 years.
She wanted them to see,
She wanted him to take her hands,
She wanted to dance in the rain with him,
She wanted to feel his warm,
She wanted him for sure,
She will wait, she swore.
A Cinderella Story?
It is different with her story, she thought,
It is just the same,
When it comes to how they stay connected.
poem by Lovita Lara
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You know what, I'm very attracted to someone who makes me laugh and is that charming. Really, I could be charmed by anyone. I'm just a sucker for somebody that is charming.
quote by Beyonce Knowles
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Happily Never After
In the beginning it feels like a fairytale
You believe there will be a happily ever after
Your Prince Charming you have finally found
And you are the beautiful Cinderella
Your hopes arise as high as the skies
Your dreams dominate your thoughts
'Mrs Prince Charming' scribbled over your mind
And nobody can tell you that 'He's wrong'
But soon you come to realise
That Prince Chraming is just what he is
He's nothing but a fictional character
Who only appears in dreams
He will never be a reality
He will never sweep you off your feet
You will meet many people who you believe are him
But somewhere you will see,
That Prince Charming is only for storybooks
He's sweet poision for little girls
I refuse to search all my life
For a man who dosen't exist in this world
poem by Sherice Malcolm
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Everything can be learned, including, to a very large extent, to be what you are not. You can learn to be pretty if you are plain, charming if you are dull, thin if you are fat, youthful if you are aging, how to write though you are inarticulate, how to make money though you are not good with figures.
quote by Henry Anatole Grunwald
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Bastille
Do you wait for reckless half moons
Theater without pomegranates
Doves as empty as icons
I wait for your frail rose
Hope that knows stars
Come to me in the moonlit silk
Lattice as charming as wanton lions
Lanterns of the old world
Our hands pray for resolution
We are tents in the desert
Surrounded by solemn winds
Your sacred candle burns late
I whisper like a fire
Opium islands cry like Chloe s
Spain has wept
Swords of Paris subdue writers
White shells by Dover hail the tide
Cruelty is the staid and defined
I have seen your dungeon
Poems of gold birds
Our morals like Egyptian sand
I watch you sleep in the Crusades
Courts of the glass Panther
Your dreams in the Bastille
poem by Joseph Narusiewicz
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To Chloe Jealous
Dear Chloe, how blubber'd is that pretty face;
Thy cheek all on fire, and thy hair all uncurl'd:
Prythee quit this caprice; and (as old Falstaff says)
Let us e'en talk a little like folks of this world.
How canst thou presume, thou hast leave to destroy
The beauties, which Venus but lent to thy keeping?
Those looks were design'd to inspire love and joy:
More ord'nary eyes may serve people for weeping.
To be vext at a trifle or two that I writ,
Your judgment at once, and my passion you wrong:
You take that for fact, which will scarce be found wit:
Odds life! must one swear to the truth of a song?
What I speak, my fair Chloe, and what I write, shows
The diff'rence there is betwixt nature and art:
I court others in verse; but I love thee in prose:
And they have my whimsies, but thou hast my heart.
The god of us verse-men (you know, child) the Sun,
How after his journeys he sets up his rest:
If at morning o'er earth 'tis his fancy to run;
At night he declines on his Thetis's breast.
So when I am wearied with wand'ring all day,
To thee my delight in the evening I come:
No matter what beauties I saw in my way;
They were but my visits, but thou art my home.
Then finish, dear Chloe, this pastoral war;
And let us like Horace and Lydia agree:
For thou art a girl as much brighter than her,
As he was a poet sublimer than me.
poem by Matthew Prior
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To Chloe, Courting Her For His Friend
I.
Chloe, behold! againe I bowe:
Againe possest, againe I woe;
From my heat hath taken fire
Damas, noble youth, and fries,
Gazing with one of mine eyes,
Damas, halfe of me expires:
Chloe, behold! Our fate's the same.
Or make me cinders too, or quench his flame
II.
I'd not be King, unlesse there sate
Lesse lords that shar'd with me in state
Who, by their cheaper coronets, know,
What glories from my diadem flow:
Its use and rate values the gem:
Pearles in their shells have no esteem;
And, I being sun within thy sphere,
'Tis my chiefe beauty thinner lights shine there.
III.
The Us'rer heaps unto his store
By seeing others praise it more;
Who not for gaine or want doth covet,
But, 'cause another loves, doth love it:
Thus gluttons cloy'd afresh invite
Their gusts from some new appetite;
And after cloth remov'd, and meate,
Fall too againe by seeing others eate.
poem by Richard Lovelace
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